This is the fifth part of a six-part series recounting my misadventures on the Pamir Highway. Pamir Highway: Sary Tash
This is also the second part of a five-part series under Coronavirus Travels
After breakfast we bid farewell to our driver who had been with us since Dushanbe. We changed driver and car to one with a Kyrgyz car plate. Apparently, it attracts much less trouble in Kyrgyzstan.
En route: Murghab - Sary Tash
It was a 2.5hour drive to Karakul lake northeast of Tajikistan first, but not before driving through some significant landmarks. Somewhere along the road from Murghab to Karakul is the highest point of the Pamir highway, called Ak-Baital Pass, 4655m above sea level. That is higher than Mount Fuji. The highway also traced the Tajik-Chinese border for a while. To the right was Xinjiang, China, likely the Akto County of Kizilsu Kyrgyz Autonomous Prefecture. Unlike the border with Afghanistan, this one is fortified with tall fences, and nothing can be seen on the Chinese side. Pamir Highway: Sary Tash
Karakul Lake
Karakul lake was completely frozen when we were there. The surrounding frigid air bit our faces while ferocious winds howled. The lake water turns bright blue and green when it is not ice, which is the case for most of the scenery, so plan your trip in the summer if you prefer that setting.
We were supposed to stay the night at Karakul village, but the homestay booked turned us away because it was not ready for guests. This turned out to be the greatest silver lining of the year. We tried looking at other homestays, but in the end decided to drive on to the next significant village in Sary Tash, Kyrgyzstan.
Crossing the Tajik - Kyrgyz border
Kyzyl-Art pass- probably the most remote and highest mountain border crossing in the world. Not to mention in early March, freezing too. We were quite literally the only people there at the time, but somehow we took 2.5hours trying to cross the border because of, you guessed it, the coronavirus paranoia.
We handed our passports and Tajik visas to our guide and driver who helped us with immigration paperwork while we stayed in the warm comfort of the car. It took them a while to visit all the huts. Then, one at a time it was our turn to enter a small hut. Presumably, the border officers wanted to see our faces before stamping our passports. So far so good. We have officially departed from Tajikistan.
First encounter with Kyrgyz border guards
The distance between the Tajik and Kyrgyz immigration outposts was a good 20minute drive through the winding mountainous roads of Kyrgyzstan. When we reached the Kyrgyz side, we were all told to get out of the car, while an officer looked at our passports and quizzed us on where we came from. Mind you, it was at most -15C outside. Upon seeing our Singapore passports, he let out a murmur of concern.
A few moments later he called his fellow officers to check out our passports, and suddenly there was a choir of people repeating the word “Singapore”. They arranged themselves like a conveyor belt too, after one finished flipping through every single page of a passport, he handed it over to the next guy, who proceeded to do the same thing, and passed it on to the next and the next, until all four passports had been thoroughly violated. All this was done as our guide recited our origin story again, but obviously no one was listening. No one cared where we actually had been the last 14 days; merely seeing that we had Singapore passports was enough to make the generalisation that we had coronavirus, despite not having been there since the start of January.
Stuck at the border
At of a loss for what to do with us, plus we looked like students too so there was no bribe to extort, they made us go into a shed to take our temperatures. The boys went in first, while the girls stood outside in the bitter, bitter cold for 15 minutes. If I did not have a fever, I would probably have one soon. Why 15 minutes for taking a temperature? The mercury thermometers had to be washed by dipping them into a cup of water, then left under the arms for 7 minutes. We had to sign some documents too, certifying we do not have a fever. While I felt death approaching, another officer came to us and asked to see our passports again.
He then asked a string of questions: “Have you recently been to China?” “No.” “South Korea?” “No.” “Iran?” “Also no.” “Where is your visa?” “We don’t need a visa to enter Kyrgyzstan for up to 60 days.” Unsatisfied, he continued flipping until he thought he reached a jackpot, which came from my very own passport. I have two Chinese visas in my passport, both dated to the middle of 2019 for when I was interning in Shanghai last summer. He smugly said to me, “You have been to China,” to which I replied “Yes, I went there last May.” The outbreak started in December. But the only information that mattered, was that I had been to China.
Moment of truth
Cue more interested parties coming to look at my bright red passport. Amidst all this was the irony that our Singapore passports became a liability when it is one of the most sought-after in the world. Not going to lie, I thought I was going to be taken away from my friends. Heart pounding, blood rushing, extremities numbing, astonishingly he returned them back to us. Then it was our turn to go into the hut. No surprise, our temperatures were all below 35C in this icy dystopia. But I guess under these circumstances, the lower the better. While waiting for 7 minutes to pass, we played a little game of guess who used the thermometer before us.
After our details had been recorded, or hand-written on paper, we went to another hut to get our passport stamped. There was only one counter. I took the longest, having to answer questions again regarding those Chinese visas. And then finally I hear the satisfying sound of the Kyrgyz stamp being chopped. A moment of silence for all the effort that went into that outcome. Pamir Highway: Sary Tash
We all got in the car, but still had to go through a final round of vehicle inspection. A few long moments later, we were through. A collective “Oh my God” permeated the air. Pamir Highway: Sary Tash
Arrival in Sary Tash
When we got to Sary Tash it was already dinner time. If we had stayed overnight at Karakul, we would have missed our flight the next evening from Osh. We checked into Akun Homestay which had strong Wi-Fi in the dining area, so we huddled there catching up on updates we missed for the past eight days. It was like emerging from underneath a rock, learning about the latest world news including that of the coronavirus. After dinner we retreated into our room, planning to commemorate the end of this momentous day with some leftover organic Tajik vodka. Then, there was a knock on our door. The day was not over.
Encounter with more Kyrgyz authorities
Our guide was at the door. He told us to come back out to the dining area; “they” sent the village doctor to take our temperatures again. A wave of helplessness and shock swept over us. I don’t even have the energy to ask who “they” were and how they tracked us down. Grudgingly we wore our shoes and walked over and waited.
Not long later, the dining area door opened, and in walked a short and stout middle-aged lady. You know how those exaggerated Halloween Doctor’s costume look like? She was dressed exactly in that. A white mask covered three quarters of her face, while her white gown extended straight to the ground. She was wearing surgical gloves on both hands, and in one she carried a huge metal case. She plonked that on the table, opened it and replaced her own mask and gloves. Beats me too. She then took out three mercury thermometers. We took our temperatures from under our arms once again, using the same famously accurate method, which we did merely four hours ago.
My recorded temperature was definitely lower than actual because I was burning from indignance, hence proving how easy it was to cheat the system. Also, because there were fewer mercury thermometers than people (six including our guide and driver), we had to share them again:) While all this was taking place, our poor host and her daughters looked on from the counter. What a sight. In my mind I was thinking how I would like to offer my sincerest apologies for unnecessarily scaring the whole village.
Are we good to go?
For the second time today we were certified free of a fever. Yippee. We signed some more forms before she told us we were “good to go”. Lies. If you thought this was bad, continue on to Osh. Pamir Highway: Sary Tash
Hi! I am Joey, a University student from Singapore, attempting to show my appreciation for the world’s most powerful passport by literally milking its visa-free benefits one country at a time. I describe my travel budget as shoestring and travel style as audacious.
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